April 03, 2008

Now imagine I was holding the fenceof Tuan Yusuf’s first graveand had a close look of the earththat once absorbed his corpse.Then observe my exit from the mausoleumvisiting the next four graves with four parallel markersno names engraved except 99 Adjectives of God.Four remains lay parallel herethey might be Tuan Yusuf’sulama, field commandersthey might be from Makassar, Bugis or Banten

Now imagine a black cannonpointing at Africa’s horizon.Follow me stepping back three centuriesremembering the West Java battleswhen Tuan Yusuf was chief commander

Listen to the Faure wind whiningcoming from two oceans shaking handsat the northernmost capeor at the freezing South Pole

Look at the leaves drifting in autumnaround the reddish baywhispering softly whenever colours come and go

Can we picture Tuan Yusuf the sufideep, zikr enveloping his soulhis thought flowed through bamboo split pensin red and black inkseeping into three languages

Fantasize bones of the brave onein a coffinsailing more than 10,000 kilometers through two oceansthe west wind slapping seven sailsat the Celebes shores threw anchorand people sobbing, lowering Syeikh Yusuf solemnlyinto Lakiung earthclose to the place where his mother Aminahbleeding giving birth

It is burdensome for meto draw the imaginary lines of your faceas photography did not belong to your centuryno painter was ever assigned by the bureaucracyto do your five colour acrilic portraitbut I just envisionthe masculine face of a 65 years old,penetrating and enlightening eyeslight beard, deep voice, slim physiquespeaking fluent Makassar Bugis Arabic Dutch and Malay

Those Low Land people were scared of youthe Governor and managersof the crooked VOC businessdeep down respected you.But they had to exile you to Batavia, Ceylon,and further 10,000 kilometers to Africaas they did not want to be distractedcollected gold coinsneatly catalogued in iron imperialist trunks

Syeikh Yusuf, what was the format and physiologyof your genius and fearlessness?

Now have a look at the fog turning into round cloudsslipping down the Table Mountaingracefullyfacing two oceans